


But the sign outside says “leave me alone”

by orphan_account



Series: tell me your story [3]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, San just sits down for a split second, Seonghwa only appears at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It’s scary, how one can only find happiness in certain, very specific conditions. But Hongjoong wants to be happy, so he follows through them, even if he knows it will only last for a short while. He’ll take what he can get.





	But the sign outside says “leave me alone”

Carefully, Hongjoong lowers his mug to the floor, fingers glowing red at the burn of newly brewed coffee. He stupidly filled the mug right to the brim, and of course, it  _ had _ to be the one with the broken handle, so he has nothing to hold onto but the body.

 

The trip from the kitchen to the front door is a long one, tread with bare feet, burnt hands, and a watchful eye. Every creak of the floor made him wince, but he pushed himself to get going, because the coffee is  _ hot _ and the boys aren’t just going to jump him the moment he makes a barely audible sound.

 

He plops down on the floor next, legs crossed, taking his notebook from where it's tucked in his arm and places it on his right side, while the mug sits on his left. He furrows his brows, glancing once at the notebook before looking at it fully, finding its spine empty of the pen he always shoves in there. He has to stand up to get another one. Maybe he can sneak in a snack too, he’s so hungry—

 

“Hyung?” A silent voice calls behind him, laced heavily with sleep and exhaustion. His shoulders slump, a sigh escaping him at the thought of being found out again, and possibly scolded.

 

San pads over to his side, covered in a blanket, and Hongjoong’s first thought is that it’s going to get dirty being dragged outside the room like that.

 

“There’s a pen on the floor. Yours, I think.”

 

San wiggles the pen at him before he offers it. Hongjoong stares. He takes it.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. He turns his attention to his coffee, reaching over to turn the mug, just to have something to do. He takes his notebook and places it on his lap, then uncaps the pen and puts it back on. He doesn’t want to be scolded again.

 

“Are you writing?” San asks, sitting down, and the blanket’s definitely dirty now. But he doesn’t mind, shuffling around a little as he makes himself comfortable. “Can I see what you have so far?”

 

“I haven’t- haven’t really…”

 

A chicken crows in the distance, somehow enough for San’s attention to be diverted. He looks on ahead, stares at the slowly brightening sky, an endless blanket of starless dark blue as a pale orange peeks from the sleeping horizon.

 

Hongjoong uses this moment to look at him, at the dim yellow streetlight delicately casted at his face, reflected in his eyes, at the endearingly messy bedhead he sports, the slightly disheveled pajamas, the dirtied, wrinkly blanket wrapped around his shoulder.

 

It’s still so surprising, when you connect this innocent-looking young boy to the things he has seen and done in his life. He’s still so young, and it makes Hongjoong’s heart ache to know that there’s so much things he has already encountered and witnessed that he never needed to, things he can never get back. As sad as it may be, the list will only keep going on, unending. It won’t just stop there.

 

And then San looks back, brows raised in curiosity, not quite in question. Hongjoong startles, quickly looking away. There’s a faint smile on San’s lips, dimples making an appearance.

 

“Can I see?” San tries, hand hovering near the notebook, leaning a bit into Hongjoong’s space. Hongjoong clutches it with both hands. “Okay,” and San flashes a bigger smile, dimples more prominent, moving away.

 

A wave of heat blooms in Hongjoong’s face. He can feel it run down his neck. His hands grow slack around the notebook. “They’re really bad.”

 

He can’t look at San, but he feels his eyes burn through him.

 

“I haven’t seen them,” San says simply. “They can actually be good, but…”

 

Another crow.

 

“But I guess I’ll just go?”

 

San is waiting for an answer. Hongjoong keeps his eyes on his lap, running his pen up and down the notebook’s spine. And, meekly, “Yes.”

 

Silence. It weighs heavily down Hongjoong’s chest, especially when San gets up wordlessly beside him.

 

“I’ll go back to sleep, okay? Try to go back to bed too.” San says, casually, blanket now off his shoulders. He holds it by two corners, waves it down to shake off the dirt, before he folds it in halves until it's only a small rectangle. He tucks it under his arm, before he’s leaning down, pressing a loud kiss on the top of Hongjoong’s head.

 

The sky is a lot brighter now, and Hongjoong watches, wide-eyed, doesn’t even register San’s departure as the colors fill up his senses. He feels immediately relaxed and relieved; the tension, the embarrassment, and the fear seeping through his shoulders and fading into nothing.

 

His coffee’s cooled down into a nice, comfortable warmth. He takes his mug into his hands, taking a sip, and it’s all so lovely, the way his stomach immediately stops its complaining, his mind becoming a fluttery, happy mess.

 

He likes this. It’s all in the little things, making his heart beat like this, happy and content. For a second, it makes him forget about everything, about who he is, what’s he done and what he’s capable of doing. He thinks up nice thoughts, makes plans in his head, thinks fondly of the boys. They’re asleep right now, resting their tired little heads to recharge from all the relentless practicing. It’s peaceful right now, but when they wake up, they’ll be so chaotic, and Hongjoong absolutely  _ adores _ their chaos.

 

He puts the mug back on the floor, turning to flip his notebook open, messily scribbling the week’s spontaneously planned agenda. He makes a checklist for all the things he wants to do within the day with specific time stamps, plans A to Z if things don’t go quite well. He writes down  _ lunch on time _ and  _ sleep early _ like he’ll follow through, but right now, with all the fuzziness in his head, he believes he will.

 

The moon’s still up there, a beautiful half crescent, faint in the blue sky. Hongjoong’s fingertips itch. He has happy songs to write, and he has to hurry, before the morning and the coffee burns down, as does this momentary solace and happiness.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The sun’s up now, and the morning light has changed into a less subtle glare. The dorm is slowly coming to life, desk lamps being turned off, beds made, and feet shuffle on the floor as they emerge from their rooms.

 

Seonghwa finds the front door ajar, and when he pulls it open, he finds Hongjoong sitting alone on the doorstep, legs pulled up to his chest, notebook on the floor beside him, pages flipped by the wind. And then there’s a half-full mug of what looked like cold coffee.

 

“Joong?” Seonghwa calls, squinting from the sudden assault of bright sunlight. He steps out. “You stayed up again? We have practice today. I told you, and I  _ told _ you this many times—“ He inhales. “We’re making breakfast.”

 

Hongjoong turns his head to the side.

 

“I’ll be there.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cc and twt: lazlozuli


End file.
